


Pissing Contest

by kisslicknipsuck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisslicknipsuck/pseuds/kisslicknipsuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is better than Harry at a sport. Harry won't take it lying down--and neither will Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pissing Contest

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written for LJ's hd_writers' 2014 Wizarding Games, Challenge 6: Week 1 Bingo Card-- _prompts: Gobstones, Quaffle, Abbleby Arrows, Swivenhodge, Gryffindor, Muggle Sport, Fouls ([blatching](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Blatching)), Viktor Krum, Celebrations_.

It was supposed to help him focus and fine tune his flying coordination, but Harry felt it was less effective than simply chasing after a Snitch. The pig's bladder--an _actual_ pig's bladder--was never going to move as fast as a Snitch, no matter how hard it was hit, nor would a Snitch ever move half as predictably as an object careening across a hedge with the backend of a broom.

The whole thing was ridiculous, really. 

This conclusion about **Swivenhodge** had nothing to do with the fact that Harry hadn't managed to score a single point against Malfoy after over an hour of play together, and certainly not because Malfoy seemed to be a natural at the obviously poncey sport--the smug little git. 

It was just that it was a waste of time. They could have been putting their practice time to better use, but instead they'd been forced to practice a completely different game altogether. 

Besides, who ever said that quidditch players should automatically be good at Swivenhodge? 

Probably Malfoy. 

Harry would just have to practice on his own and show Malfoy how _not_ special he really was for being good at it. 

He'd practice until he got really good and then he'd challenge Malfoy. They'd have a private match, just the two of them. And after Harry beat him soundly, he'd celebrate by buying Malfoy a reconciliatory drink. 

It was a perfect plan. Surely nothing would go wrong.

\--

"Of all your brutish expressions, sullen is probably my favorite."

Harry only scowled down at the lager Malfoy had bought him after once again destroying him at Swivenhodge and ignored his teammate's jibe. 

"You did better this time, Potter. You even scored a point." Malfoy leaned over the table separating them. "One whole point." 

The glare Harry shot him transformed Malfoy's smirk into an all-out grin. 

"How long did you have to practice to manage that?" 

Quite a lot, actually. 

Chuckling to himself, Malfoy sat back in his chair and took a swig from his own drink, no doubt satisfied with himself. 

"This isn't over, Malfoy," Harry said, interrupting Malfoy's private **celebration** of his—rare—victory over Harry. 

"Oh?" Malfoy answered with a raised brow. 

"Not even close."

\--

Harry wasn't really sure how they'd managed to Apparate to his flat without splinching themselves, or how exactly beating Malfoy at Gobstones was supposed to prove his superiority--or even how he was going to win since he hadn't played since his Hogwarts days—was frankly miraculous that he even had a set of them anymore. 

All he knew was that Malfoy was three points ahead of him and Harry's hand-eye coordination was shot. He really shouldn't have had that seventh lager before they left the pub... 

"When I win, Potter--"

"You're not going to win!"

"When I win," Malfoy continued, ignoring his interruption, "You're going to give up your delusions of superiority and finally acknowledge that I'm better than you at all things—always."

Harry didn't answer until he'd made his move, successfully knocking one of Malfoy's yellow stones out of the ring and giggling when it sprayed the blond with its stink. 

"Malfoy," he said as the man wiped his face on the collar of Harry's discarded outer robe, "I'd sooner let **Viktor Krum** blow his load on my face than admit that you're better than me at anything." 

Malfoy's face went blank for a moment before the man fell to his side laughing so hard he had to clutch at his middle. 

"What's so funny?" Harry demanded, vaguely annoyed that he'd missed a joke, but also unable to stop smiling in the face of prim and proper Draco Malfoy sloppy-drunk and paralyzed by laughter. 

"I can't stop imagining Krum jizzing on your face!" 

Having forgotten their game, Malfoy rolled onto his knees, right in the middle of the Gobstone circle, and scattered the whole thing, his laughter never dwindling. What's more, he only laughed harder when Harry cursed at him for it. 

Harry only managed to scowl at the man's clumsiness for a split second before he was grinning with amusement, too. The idea of Krum cumming on his face was hardly amusing to him, but he had to admit that unreserved mirth was a good look on Malfoy.

\--

"This is _not_ a sport, Malfoy," Harry said as he surveyed the chessboard with a wary eye. He'd never been good at chess. 

"Of course it is," Malfoy argued breezily. "It's a gentleman's sport." 

Harry snorted at that and commanded a pawn to make his first move, fully knowing that he would inevitably lose. "It's a **Muggle sport** , if anything."

"Muggle chess isn't the same. And besides, since when do you have something against Muggles?"

"I don't," Harry said firmly. "And the only difference between Wizarding and Muggles chess is that Muggle chess pieces don't take orders. It's the same exact game and Muggles had it first."

"Just shut up and move, Potter," Malfoy snapped after he'd made his own move. 

As predicted, Harry was losing quite spectacularly after a mere ten minutes. Feeling that the entire exercise was futile and therefore indifferent to the consequences, Harry moved his last Rook to take one of Malfoy's Bishops in the hopes that Malfoy might have a spontaneous brain aneurism and not move his Queen, which was behind the Bishop, so Harry could take it on his next turn. 

"Stop **blatching** , Potter, you're embarrassing yourself," Malfoy said as he took Harry's Rook and checked his King. 

"I wasn't blatching. It was a carefully laid trap." Somehow, Harry managed to say that with a straight face and Malfoy huffed out a laugh in response. 

"Obviously there's no point in continuing this farce since you keep insisting on playing like a **Gryffindor** ," Malfoy said with a put-upon sigh, "so I suggest you yield."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. I didn't want to play this to begin with, so congratulations, Malfoy, I yield. You've beaten me at a game that I _told_ you I've never won before--against anyone. You must be proud."

Malfoy sniffed at his sarcasm and said, "I'll be proud when you admit your inferiority."

"All the more reason to never do so."

"You've lost the last three of our challenges, Potter. Stop being such a sore loser and tell me what I want and deserve to hear." 

"I didn't lose at Gobstones," Harry protested. "You rolled all over the game in your drunkenness." 

"Nuance," Malfoy said, waving him away. "You still lost at Swivenhodge and chess. So unless you have a date with Viktor Krum I don't know about, I'd like my just desserts now." 

"Never."

"Potter, we agreed."

"No, we didn't."

They stared at each other defiantly for a few beats. Then Malfoy said, "Why don't we make an agreement now, then? Whoever wins the next challenge has to say the words or pay the price."

Harry looked at Malfoy dubiously. "Only if I get to pick the challenge." 

"Why do you get to pick?"

"So I get the advantage, obviously," Harry said matter-of-factly. 

Malfoy placed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Potter, I think that's the least Gryffindor thing I've ever heard you say."

"Are we agreed?" Harry said, ignoring the condescension. 

"Fine, but I get to choose your punishment when you lose and refuse to pay up."

"And I'll choose yours when you do the same."

"Agreed." Malfoy's face stretched into a sly grin that might've made Harry nervous if he wasn't so confident about his chosen game. 

"What's it to be then, Potter? Another go at Gobstones? Exploding Snap? Perhaps a broom race?"

"Of course not," Harry said, matching Malfoy's cocky smile. "I'm going to play to my strengths—Quidditch. During practice tomorrow, whoever catches the Snitch first, yeah?"

"All right, but no blatching this time."

"I wasn't blatching!"

\--

The rain made the pale blue of their uniforms darker so they all looked like grey streaks polluting the air as the Arrows carried on their practice match despite the weather. Harry didn't mind it much. With an Impervius charm on his glasses, Harry thought he played better in the rain, especially because the occasional lightening made the Snitch shine more brightly than anything else in the gloom, which made it easier to spot. 

He'd already caught sight of it during the last flash of lightening, but he hadn't gone after it yet, because it was closer to Malfoy than Harry, and if he went straight for it, Malfoy would undoubtedly notice and get to it first. And he'd already had a moment of panic when the **Quaffle** had hit the Snitch as it was passed between players, seemingly dazing it, and Malfoy had nearly caught it. Harry didn't intend to just hand him another chance at it. 

But then it darted towards him, just far enough for Harry to be sure that could get to it before Malfoy. He didn't hesitate to go after it. 

Naturally, the wily Snitch zipped away from him the moment it was within reach, but Harry was on its trail and he could keep up with it well enough to not lose sight of it again. 

Malfoy appeared in his left peripheral, racing along beside him with all his attention on the rapidly escaping Snitch. Harry wasn't worried, though. There was a reason why he was the starting Seeker and Malfoy wasn't. 

The Snitch darted right and Harry turned fast enough to come within reach of it. It was a simple thing to snatch it out of the air. 

\--

"I'm waiting, Malfoy," Harry said from behind him. He was leaning against a wall in the locker room, fresh from the showers, wearing nothing but his white towel. 

Malfoy froze at the sound of Harry's voice. He'd been drying his wet hair with his own towel—leaving him decidedly more naked than Harry—and hadn't heard his victorious teammate enter the room. 

He frowned briefly at Harry and then his face softened into something more contemplative. "What's my punishment if I don't say you're better than me?"

Harry's face broke out in a grin and he pushed away from the wall to stalk slowly towards Malfoy. "Do you remember the other night when we were playing Gobstones and I said I would rather let Viktor Krum cum on my face before I submitted to you?" 

Malfoy pursed his lips. "You want me to let Krum cum on my face?"

"Merlin, no," Harry said quickly as he came to a stop in front of Malfoy. "I'm not that cruel."

"That remains to be seen," Malfoy drawled. 

Harry smiled wickedly again. "If you don't say it, you have to let _me_ cum on your face."

Malfoy was silent as he contemplated Harry, searching his face to see if he was serious. Then his eyes wandered down to Harry's covered bottom half. He glanced up at Harry's face again before nonchalantly reaching out to pull his towel away. Harry let him do it. 

Standing naked and alone together in the deserted locker, the rest of their teammates having already left, they examined each other with unabashed curiosity. 

Harry liked what he saw. Although he'd seen it all before in the last couple of years that the two of them had been part of the **Appleby Arrows** , he'd only been allowed surreptitious glances and quick glimpses in the showers. Never before had he been allowed to just _look_. 

Malfoy focused most of his attention on Harry's cock, making a show of silent judgment. Harry would never admit it out loud, but he rather liked the scrutiny.

"What's it to be, Malfoy?" Harry said, his voice sounding a little gruff. 

Malfoy's eyes darted up from Harry's cock, which may or may not have been showing signs of interest in the proceedings. "You'll warn me when you're about to cum?"

"Absolutely fucking not," Harry said with an almost vicious smile. 

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be chivalrous."

"I try not to limit myself to House predilections." 

Malfoy scoffed at that but went to his knees anyway with a couple warnings of his own. "If you cum in my eyes, I reserve the right to use my teeth as I see fit. And if you cum in my throat, it still counts."

"Fine, fine," Harry said impatiently. "Just get on with it." He was already fully hard and the sight of Malfoy's mouth so close to his cock was making it jump. 

The blond muttered something Harry couldn't hear and didn't care about a moment later when his lips closed around his head, sucking him in easily as his hands settled on Harry's hips. Harry exhaled sharply at the sensation and he brought his hands up to smooth Malfoy's mussed hair out of his face so he could better see the man moving up and down his shaft, taking in more and more of him on every downward suck. 

Malfoy's eyes closed the first time he swallowed Harry completely and Harry clenched his fists in Malfoy's hair, thrusting his hips forward as if he could go any deeper than he already was. He'd expected Malfoy to be annoyed by the action, but when he pulled his head back to breathe, he moaned slightly and then plunged down again with an eagerness he hadn't had before. 

Harry shivered at the sight and rewarded Malfoy with a few breathy words of praise. 

He was going to cum any second. Should he pull back and finish on Malfoy's face, or let the blond suck him dry? He couldn't decide. Both options were equally appealing. 

Malfoy took the decision out of his hands when he pulled off of Harry completely with a vulgar pop and took him in hand, wanking him with their eyes locked until Harry spilled himself on Malfoy's flushed cheek with a choked grunt. 

It was an effort to recover himself. He needed to sit down, but he wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction. 

"All right, Potter?" Malfoy asked in a smug voice from his perch on the locker room bench. 

"Brilliant," Harry said, rolling his shoulders and concentrating on keeping his legs from melting under him. 

"You sure?"

Harry sniffed at him. "It wasn't that good."

Malfoy turned his nose up at Harry, but there was a telling upward twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Think you could do better?" He opened his legs invitingly, bringing attention to his own neglected erection. 

Harry smiled knowingly. "Of course."

"Well, then, Potter— _prove it_."


End file.
